100 Themes: Romantic Drabbles
by Halogazer
Summary: Adopted from 100 themes, just some small romantic scenes featuring random couples among the GW universe. Will contain some original characters.
1. Winter: Duo and Casey

**A/N: So, I decided to do one of those 100-theme things. Each one is going to feature a random couple. For the first one, it's Duo and my friend's character, Casey. I'm just going to pick random themes out of order, but as you can see below you, I'll feature what the theme actually is. I think this will be a nice little thing to do for fun. I'm working on another one now, and depending on how well it goes, maybe I'll try to get another one done. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its affiliated characters. However, there will be created characters featured in this little one-shots. Casey Martin is property of my friend Dana. Lista Di Nevella belongs to me. Salaehya Yuy belongs to my friend Breanne.**

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**020. Winter**

_Duo/Casey_

She didn't like the cold. In fact, she figured it was a close cry to hatred. She much preferred warmer weather, welcome weather. She stood still as a statue at the frost-bitten window, watching the snow fall in a delicate dance to the ground. She was amazed that even the Colonies themselves experienced the seasons of Earth.

This was one thing that she could admit she enjoyed about winter: the snow. It decorated the trees outside with a natural white glow that rivaled pearls of the ocean deep. She could do nothing to stop the slow smile creeping to her face. It was beautiful enough to overlook the frigid weather that accompanied it.

"You know, you could go outside and look at it from out there," a male voice spoke up from behind.

Surprised at the sudden intrusion into her solitary stupor, she spun around, eyes wide, to meet the violet-eyed Gundam pilot that dared to steal her heart. "Duo, I didn't know you were in here."

He grinned goofily and took several steps towards her. He was fitting gloves over his broad hands. "Sorry, Casey. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. You looked like you were thinking about something pretty important."

Slender brows curved into her chocolate brown eyes, creases forming into thin lines on her forehead. "I was thinking how much distaste I hold for winter. It's too cold." She folded her arms over her chest and turned back to look through the window. The snow was falling heavier now, masking the buildings in the distance.

"Really? I love winter," Duo replied, walking up to her side. He pressed his hand against the window frame, pressing his nose against the cold glass. "The cold makes me realize I'm alive, which I'm glad to be. A lot of people take life for granted." He cast her a sideways glance. "Not me. I've seen too much death and destruction to do that. I know how temporary life is." He pushed himself away, leaving a small imprint on the glass from his nose. He chuckled deeply. "I was gonna go outside in it. Wanna come with me?"

She scoffed and broke their gaze. "No, I think I'll pass. Maybe you better go on without me."

Duo slid in front of her, showing off his pout. "Oh, c'mon. I think you'd have some fun, and you can never have too much of that. Just dress warm, and once you get out there and start doing stuff, you'll forget how cold it is." He took her hand in his heavily padded one, squeezing tight. "Just for a little bit. We'll come back inside after a little bit."

Casey sighed and closed her eyes. Even as she nodded her head in defeat, she was already regretting it. She hated the cold, and now she was about to go traipsing around in it. "Fine," she said gruffly. "Let me get changed. I'll be back in five minutes."

Duo smiled in victory and watched her walk away. He could tell she was displeased, but he'd watched her many times when she wasn't noticing. He realized how incredibly stalkerish it was, and was even reprimanded by Quatre about it, but he couldn't help it. The woman was a walking box of enigmas, ones that needed to be unlocked. He swore he would be the one to do it. She deserved at least that much from him.

And besides, he saw the smile on her face as he watched the snow fall. He didn't know why she was kidding herself. Even if she hated the cold as she claimed, he was sure he had a certain love for the snow. And he planned to unleash that love full force.

Just half a minute short of five as she said, Casey came back into the living room, fully clad in dark purple gloves, a white heavy coat and a matching purple scarf. He grinned and reached for her. There was little resistance, but he was able to tug her to the front door. "You look like a bowling ball," Duo joked as he began turning the doorknob.

Casey's eyes widened, fully insulted. She jerked her hand from his. "What?"

Duo flashed her an apologetic grin. "I didn't mean it that way, babe. You just have yourself wrapped up pretty tight in that coat and scarf. I didn't think you hated the cold that much."

Casey's brow rose. "I have a sweater on under here," she informed wryly.

The braided pilot of Deathscythe Hell bit back a snicker and reached for her again, this time waiting for her to place her hand in his. She hesitated. "We won't stay out here long. Just give it a chance, babe."

Unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes, she slid her hand back in his and he swung the front door open. She half-expected the cold to blast into her like a wall, but it was like a gentle touch to her cheeks as they stepped outside into the yard. She nearly forgot to pull the door shut behind her as Duo led her into the middle of the snow-swathed yard. She craned her neck, peering up into the sky. It was a dank-looking gray, but there was something rather peaceful about it as snowflakes, big and small, fell upon her and dissolved.

"Quatre says he likes all seasons, even winter," Duo suddenly spoke up, causing her to direct her attention to him. He was looking up as well, his smile wide. "He's spent most of his time in the desert, so for him, he's pretty much accustomed to hot weather and sun. But when he gets to experience winter, he says it's a nice change for him. He likes the snow, and he even enjoys the cold. But then again, the guy likes just about everything. He knows not to take anything for granted."

Casey stared at him for a moment before turning to gather her surroundings. There was a ringing of children's laughter echoing in her ears, no doubt coming from one of the neighbors' homes. "The cold reminds me of death, of dark times," Casey whispered.

"Yeah, it reminds me of that, too," Duo said. He gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her closer in his side. Despite the cold surrounding them, the two had managed to create their own small bundle of body warmth. She admitted to herself that having him stand so close to her made the winter cold bearable. "And, you know, I used to hate winter too."

"You did?" Casey asked, somewhat surprised. "But you were so excited about coming out here. What changed your mind?"

"Wars change people, Case," Duo said sagely, his smile fading ever so slightly. "Like I said, I learned not to take anything for granted. Hatred gets you nowhere. And plus, winter's not so bad. When it all ends, spring gets here, and that's the season of rebirth. It's all a cycle. Everything comes back to life when the cold goes away. Wars are like that, too. Wars are like winter; they might be ugly, but there's some good in them that some people can't see. But even the things we don't like serve purposes."

Casey absorbed his words and took a step closer to him, her ears fully tuned in to the soft crunch beneath her boot-clad feet. "I guess I never thought about it like that," she admitted quietly, lowering her head to peer at the white ground. "I _do_ like snow. I think it's beautiful. It makes everything so… clear."

"Yeah, it does," Duo agreed. He chuckled and bent down, sifting his hands through the delicate white powder. "I like snow, too." He fisted his hand over the crunching substance and held in between them. "As a kid, I used to make snowmen and snow angels, before the wars took away all the people I knew and loved, that is. My innocence pretty much melted away like the snow does when spring comes."

Casey's eyes softened and she rested her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."

Duo shook his head and grinned. "Nothing to be sorry over. Their lives have all been avenged, and the wars are over, so everything is right with the world for now." He flexed his hand slightly, allowing some of the snow to fall back to the ground. In a half-blinked eye, he smashed his snow-covered hand against the back of her head, coating her ginger hair.

Releasing an indignant groan, she swatted his hand away and combed her fingers through her hair, feeling the snow melt and drip down the back of her neck. "Duo! What was that for?"

He grinned slyly, his eyes slitting, as he leaned towards her until the tips of their noses touched, his warm breath beating into her. "It's cold, I know. But it's not so bad, is it?"

Casey stammered for an answer. She was silent, watching him carefully as he pulled himself away from her with a knowing glint in his eye. Her hands fell away from her hair, resting back at her sides. The tension in her limbs disappeared, and she looked up to the sky, watching the snow continue to waltz around them. Accompanying the laughter of the nearby children was now the happy chuckling of the former God of Death as he pranced about the snow-covered yard. She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle as he lost his footing and fell face-first into the snow. She heard him grumbling about nature's sense of humor as he patted the snow from his clothing. He flashed her a grin and a thumbs-up, and returned to his usual antics.

The cold wasn't as bad as she thought it was.


	2. Color: Quatre and Lista

**001. Color**

_Quatre/Lista_

Quatre watched her with an intense stare. She captivated him to the very core, albeit it was always a very welcome and pleasant captivation.

The day's weather worked well to his advantage. It was rare for them both, given their very-public identities, to spend time together in the quiet, in the countryside of the colony. He leaned back on his palms, curling his fingers in the blades of grass beneath him. He closed his eyes for but a moment, gathering a slow, long breath of sweet air through his nose before releasing it from his mouth.

He heard her giggle, and so his snapped his eyes open, not wishing to miss the glimmer in her smile as she connected with the nature around them. Although the natural was, in fact, synthetic, it didn't make it any less beautiful. It didn't make the sun's rays any less spectacular as they played upon the top of Lista's ebony head while she continued to pick wildflowers not twenty feet away from him.

She turned over her shoulder, peering at him with soundless joy. Her smile widened, her lips painted delicately with a soft rose pink lip gloss that held a gentle shimmer in the sunlight. She looked free and uninhibited as she held several different varieties of flowers in her hands.

He could do nothing more than admire her, vivid colors splashed around her as if they were the very subjects of a painting in progress. The smile on his face he considered permanent as she pushed herself from her knees, smoothing the pastel yellow skirts of her dress around her peach-tanned legs.

"I can't believe how many different flowers there are out here," she said as she walked up to him, leaning down to hand them the small makeshift bouquet she'd collected.

He took them willingly, lifting the full blooms to his nose. Reds, yellows and pinks mixed together in a complete conundrum. He hardly noticed her settling down on her knees next to him, her dress fanning out around her. Her hands rested delicately in her lap, she almost looked like a variety of flower herself.

"They're beautiful, Lista," he admitted. He smiled and rested them on the ground save for one, a pink flower that resembled a daisy. He leaned over and tucked it into the corner of her ear. She smiled and grazed her finger against the soft petals. "But not nearly as beautiful as you."

Lista's emerald eyes softened, glimmered in an intensity that he deemed nothing could outmatch. "Quatre," she whispered warningly. She leaned over to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "You don't need to talk like that."

"I speak only the truth, as you very well know," Quatre replied, careful as he rested his cheek against the soft bed of her ebony hair. "I think it's fitting for you to be among flowers."

Lista chuckled against him. "I'd ask you why, but I'm sure I can fathom what sort of answer you'll give me." She rested her hand atop his, sliding her fingers in between his. "It's such a beautiful day today. The only thing that makes this incomplete is the sky." She blinked, looking up into the atmospheric exterior of the colony. "Made of metal and other numerous substances." She sighed heavily. "I suppose it's better than nothing. At least the nature down here can be considered real. The flowers, the grass, the soil."

Quatre merely listened to her words, offering no response. Instead, his eyes traveled around their surroundings, taking note of the seemingly hundreds of colors streaked about in the plush green grass, grass the same shade as Lista's eyes. For some reason he could not explain, colors were more vivid to his eyes. His senses were at their highest peak, reaping the benefits of sitting in the middle of a wildflower-sprinkled field with no one else in sight.

It was the perfect way to spend the day.

"The flowers are pretty," Lista murmured tiredly. She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder and shifted her weight from her knees, instead resting on her legs and thus pressing her body against the side of his. "I'm glad the people of the Colonies can enjoy the same nature that Earth does. I just hope they don't take it for granted."

"I'm sure they've learned not to do such a thing after living their lives enveloped in war," Quatre replied. He lifted his head from hers, peering down upon her with a comforting smile. "You belong in nature, sweetheart. I'm glad we were able to enjoy the day out here."

Lista nodded, smiling in agreement. "Me too. It's not often that we see anything other than the boring inside of conference rooms. This is a welcome change of pace. The four walls of my office need a splash of color like this. I'd like to paint the walls a different color. Gray is so bland."

Quatre felt something click within him. An idea. "Well, I think I know a way to give your room a little taste of nature."

Before she could question him, she watched him stand up and walk several paces away from her. He bent down and began picking flowers, careful to preserve as much of the stems as possible. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but found herself too enamored to do so. He handled the flowers he picked with such care, as if every single one were made of porcelain.

He returned to her side after several short minutes, holding a bundle of multi-colored flowers against his chest. "We'll put these on your desk. That should liven up your office."

Lista's eyes silently studied the lush orange, sweet pink, gentle yellow, vivacious red and brilliant violet flowers resting in his hands. A smile crept to her face and she nodded, thoroughly enjoying the idea of having such an array of color to peer at day after day. "But Quatre, these won't last very long. Several days, at the most, I imagine."

"Then we will just have to make it a point to come here often and gather you more," he said, settling down before her on his knees. He handed her the full bouquet, this time giving her the opportunity to hold them to her nose.

She took them gladly and breathed them in, hugging them against her chest. "They're lovely." She rested them next to the several flowers she'd picked earlier, sliding her hands out from under them. "This world would be entirely too boring without pretty things like flowers to look at."

Quatre felt a dash of scarlet sweep across his cheeks. "Well, I have quite enough pretty things in my life to look at. Flowers are merely an added bonus for me."

Lista giggled and swung her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. "You're a pretty man yourself, Quatre." She pressed her lips teasingly against the tip of his nose, noticing the scarlet on his cheeks deepening against the pale peach of his skin.

She was glad that she didn't see everything in black and white like most people did.


	3. Sorrow: Quatre and Lista

**009. Sorrow**

_Quatre/Lista_

She didn't realize how dark and dank space was until having spent a full day in this Lunar Base cell. With legs pulled against her chest, she rested her chin on her knees and sighed deeply. OZ had come in an hour before to take Heero for some supposed tests. She was sure that they would be back to retrieve her, or to retrieve Quatre.

Speaking of the Arabian pilot, she turned her head, noticing him sitting silent in the corner of the small, windowless room. He sat with his legs crossed and his head hung low. His bangs fell like a curtain in front of his eyes; she wished she could see him. He had been silent the whole time Heero was gone, and she didn't like it. She knew exactly what was going through his head.

He'd lost his father right before his eyes, and no less, to the Colonies that he'd sworn to protect. And now they betrayed him, betrayed them all. She knew a little bit about feeling betrayed, especially having the feeling of her own father's betrayal fresh in her mind, and in her heart. But unlike him, she still had her father in her life. It made her own feelings feel more conflicted, like there were pieces of a puzzle within her that wouldn't connect, as if they weren't meant to go together.

She groaned loudly, unable to take the silence any longer. She pushed herself to her feet and with gentle strides, came to Quatre's designated corner. He didn't look up at her. He didn't move. She had to wonder if he was even still breathing.

"I wish you would talk to me," she whispered, hardly audible. "I know you're hurting right now."

There was an uneasy hesitation between them before Quatre finally lifted his head, staring straight ahead at the closed door to their cell. "It's all right. We don't need to discuss anything."

Frowning, Lista knelt in front of him, therefore forcing him to look at her. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip; his eyes were a darker blue than usual, tired and pained. She knew the lack of light in their cell had nothing to do with it. "Yes, we do. You're hurting, Quatre."

"I'd prefer not to discuss it, Lista. Please," he rasped, snapping his eyes close. A tear fell down his cheek, dropping in silence to the metal ground beneath their feet.

Lista opened her mouth to rebuke, to insist he let out his feelings, but she said nothing. Instead, she moved to his side, resting her back against the wall until her bare arm grazed against his sleeve-clad one. "You don't have to talk, then," she said, defeated. "But maybe you'll listen instead."

He slowly turned his head to gaze upon her, watching the corners of her lips twitch and curl down in a frown. "I'll listen," he agreed softly.

"I can't begin to fathom what you're feeling, having lost your father in this war. It makes me hate it even more," Lista admitted, clenching her teeth together. "I see what it's done to you, someone so pure and loving. And I've had the opportunity to realize what it's done to me, someone born into a family that has both a soldier's thirst for blood and battle and a need for total pacifism. I've been torn between both. My father is a soldier, and my mother is a pacifist. It's an impossible match." She shook her head and chuckled sardonically, resting the back of her head against the cool metal of the wall. "And now, after having been trained by my father and joining his side in the Alliance, he has betrayed everyone. It's because of him that I'm in here with you, that I surrendered to OZ."

"You surrendered out of fear of what retribution you would deliver upon your father for being a spy for OZ," Quatre said. It wasn't a question. He didn't need her to tell him why she made the choices she did; he could see it.

"The retribution I had in mind was more of a permanent kind," Lista admitted. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, greasy from several days' lack of washing. "And that scared me. It still does. I was so angry, and it almost didn't matter that he was my father. He was a part of OZ, and therefore, an enemy to me. He betrayed the Colonies, and he betrayed our family. I wanted to make him pay." Face fallen behind her sadness, she turned to look at him. "It makes my skin crawl to know what I would have done if I didn't surrender. I'm afraid I would have killed him."

"But you didn't," Quatre reminded her. He closed his eyes. _I did. I killed all those people out of my sorrow. You are a much stronger person than I am, Lista, for having such restraint over your emotions._ He suddenly felt a soft hand graze over one of his, fingers curling into his. They sat there for a moment, silent and staring at one another, emerald eyes gazing into azure. The intense eye-lock made the last line of his emotional defense crumble, and several more tears trailed down his cheeks. "I'm a murderer, Lista. I killed all those people. And Trowa. He's…"

Lista said nothing at first. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her chest. She offered herself to him, allowing him to sob into her shirt. Like a mother comforting a child, she quietly shushed him, sifting her fingers through the back of his hair in a consoling massage. "Nothing has been confirmed about Trowa," Lista whispered to him. "It may seem grim, but we don't know that he's dead. We have to think positive, believe that even in the slightest possibility that he has survived, he is one of them."

Quatre muffled something against her in response, something she couldn't make out. Instead, she tightened her arms around him, drawing him closer into her body. She rested her head against his and sighed, wishing she had the ability to draw away his pain. But she knew she didn't, and it was in human nature to experience sorrow.

But that didn't change the fact she hated to see her comrade, her friend, feeling guilty for the loss of so many lives due to the way he chose to respond to said sorrow.

"It's all right to feel this way," she finally said, gently pushing him away from her so she could look at him. His face was tearstained, his eyes continuing to fill with more tears. She brushed her thumbs against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that began their journey down his face. She offered him a comforting smile—a weak one, but a smile nonetheless. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but it looks like we're going to be spending a good amount of time with one another from here on. I'm going to be here for you."

Quatre nodded. Although he was thankful for her concern for him, he still felt empty, and until he knew how to better handle his sorrow, and his guilt, he knew that emptiness would intensify.

_War brings sorrow, but we must fight to protect our loved ones from that sorrow._

It was the basis behind his involvement as a Gundam pilot. He always vowed to protect his family and the people he cared for from the sorrow brought on by war. But now, he was the direct cause of sorrow, rather than the protective force he vowed to be at the dawn of Operation Meteor.

He _was_ sorrow.

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**A/N: So, as you can see, this scene is meant to take place in the series after Quatre and Heero are apprehended by OZ and taken to the Lunar Base. Just a quick briefing: Lista, at the same time Heero and Trowa were fighting a maddened Quatre in the Wing Zero, was embroiled in her own emotional battle with her father, who turned out to secretly be a member of OZ. It was during this battle that she discovered he was working undercover for OZ when the Alliance was still active, and that her father discovered she was a Gundam pilot. Due to her anger, and afraid of what she would do, she decided to immediately surrender herself to OZ to avoid any further confrontation with her father, and was thus reunited with Quatre and Heero at the Lunar Base. So, there you go. Hehe. **

**This came easy to me, easier than I thought. This is before Lista and Quatre are even aware they have feelings for one another, but as soon as I saw "Sorrow" as one of the themes, I immediately thought of Quatre, and of the mantra he adopted when he decided to become a Gundam pilot. I thought this scene suited him well at the time. I hope everyone enjoyed this.**


	4. Friends: Trowa and Salaehya

**073. Friends**

_Trowa/Salaehya_

"Solitary" was the best way to describe the way she'd lived her life, and she was quite content living her life that way. There were less barriers, less obstacles that way. She only relied on herself, deduced that all she ever needed she could provide herself.

In her earlier days, in her training as a soldier, she was taught that. And she'd lived by that mantra religiously.

When she became a Gundam pilot, she considered herself to be the deadliest force known to man, as well as machine. But she had no idea that there would be others like herself, others that piloted Gundam suits as she did, had nearly-suicidal and homicidal missions. And in the midst of a war she believed was absolutely necessary, no questions asked, she found herself working alongside those individuals, all with unique personalities all on their own and an identical mission as her own.

And she'd found something even more unexpected: romance.

Granted, she was a passionate soul, but she never thought she'd be reduced to a love-struck girl after finding herself staring into the deep green recesses of Trowa Barton's eyes. She'd fallen far too deep to pull herself out, and she inwardly admitted that she had no care to do so; she enjoyed feeling companionship for once.

She had plenty of that now, with an abundance of friends she found she could trust with her life. And moreover, she found she would give her life for theirs without a moment's hesitation if the situation called for it.

Companionship. She never thought she'd have it.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you looking quite so thoughtful," a deep male voice said from behind.

Salaehya blinked back to reality and snapped her head around, facing the same bottomless emerald eyes that pulled her in with no effort. Her heart skipped a beat, and she said nothing, instead turning back around to gaze at the trees that prompted such a stroll on memory lane. She felt Trowa sit down on the swing next to her, his body heat slamming into her as the sun's rays often did, pleasant, warm and calming.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, crossing his legs and arms into a comfortable position.

"Nothing," she lied, shaking her head.

"Hmm. It must be a great deal of nothing, then, considering I'd been standing behind you for several minutes without you noticing," Trowa informed knowingly, turning to catch her reaction. She made no movement, although he did manage to catch the corners of her mouth twitching, as if she fought to hide her emotions. She was often good at doing so. "You're reminiscing, aren't you? Today's the anniversary of the battle at New Edwards."

Salaehya scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I hadn't noticed."

"Only one of things you've lacked noticing lately," he replied softly, smirking. He loosened his arms and wrapped one around her shoulders, pulling her closer into the depths of his body. "You miss everyone, don't you?"

Salaehya remained silent at first, debating on how she could possibly word her answer without making herself look like a weakling. "I don't miss anyone," she said wryly. She tilted her head as she looked at him. "I miss the action. That's all."

"You miss our friends," Trowa added quickly, knowingly. He felt her tense in his hold. "I know you don't like to be so easily read, but even a soldier is human. It's all right for you to miss them." He chuckled deeply. "As a matter of fact, Quatre has already informed me that he wishes to have us get together for a meal. Dinner, I'm assuming, at his estate. He's making all the arrangements."

"Dinner," Salaehya repeated, as if the word held no meaning to her. "And I suppose we'll have no say in the matter."

"More than likely," Trowa agreed with a single nod. "Quatre will insist we be there. I, for one, would not mind seeing the others. I am curious to see how they have managed to handle the peace as soldiers."

"Heero watches Relena like a hawk," Salaehya replied, folding her arms under her breasts. "He goes where she goes, and nothing deters him. He's her secret bodyguard, hiding in the shadows just in case. Duo is probably in L2 somewhere doing that salvage dealing business with Hilde. I'm not quite sure what Wufei would occupy himself with; I'd imagine him having the greatest difficulty with the calm. Lista has been a rather strong military advocate for the peace. She's always making public appearances with Relena as one of her strongest supporters. And then there's Quatre, who is obviously busy with the terraforming project and whatever other things he has to do as the Winner Corporation's CEO."

Trowa sat silent for a moment, listening to Salaehya's rather detailed explanation. He smiled. "You wouldn't know such things unless they were your friends."

Salaehya's eyes widened and she opened her mouth, prepared to rebuke, but had nothing to say. She didn't know why she continued to deny it. They were all her friends. She admitted it. She connected to all of them in her own unique way. She was sure they all felt that same way about one another as well. They were born for the same purpose. They were born to meet and work together as a single force to obtain peace for everyone, for themselves.

"I know you and I were both raised in a world of loneliness, Salaehya, but we have no need for that anymore," Trowa pointed out, sliding his arm from her shoulders, resting it between their bodies. "You and I have many connections, many similarities. I never thought myself as one to have a comrade, to have someone to care for my wellbeing."

"Well, I do," Salaehya interrupted matter-of-factly. "I always have."

"Precisely. So did Quatre, even before he knew where my allegiance was," Trowa continued with a nod. "I think perhaps they all did, although they didn't show it quite as strongly as Quatre did at the beginning. He cared for all of us. I'm sure Lista did as well."

"They're two peas in a pod," Salaehya sighed, shaking her head. "They go together well."

"As do we," Trowa said, smiling.

Salaehya returned the expression, finding his hand and clasping it strongly within hers. "I guess so."

Trowa stared out into the horizon of the colony, watching leaves wave in the gentle breeze. Salaehya did the same, her mind backing into another thought-induced trance. She could only imagine what it would be like for the seven of them to sit around a table eating a grand dinner prepared by Quatre's kitchen staff. She enjoyed cooking for herself, and had no issue in doing so, but she had to admit that his chefs were some of the best in the world. She wouldn't mind gaining a few tricks from them to improve her own cooking skills.

Salaehya felt Trowa push himself up, taking several steps to the edge of the porch. He clasped his hands behind his back and breathed in a deep drink of fresh air. He held it in his lungs for several seconds before releasing it again. "I guess we better start to get ready, then," she announced, standing quietly from her seat.

Trowa turned over his shoulder. "Get ready for what?"

Quirking an eyebrow, she walked to the front door. "Knowing Quatre, he will have this dinner meeting arranged before the day is over. He has a knack for locating people and preparing things in record time. The day is young, and I'd rather not be late for dinner with our friends. It's been a long time since we have all been together."

Trowa smiled, watching her walk into the house. He wasn't sure if Salaehya was aware of it, but he managed to catch the grin that formed on her lips, as well as the joy that was hidden behind it.

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**A/N: It's just a bit difficult for me to write Trowa/Salaehya scenes because they don't seem to showcase their romantic sides very much due to their solitary personalities. I'm so used to writing Quatre/Lista, which is completely uninhibited. I have to hold back with Trowa and Salaehya, but it's a welcome challenge. Salaehya is a very complex character to write since I haven't had much practice with her other than in the early days of her creation when I was a rather inexperienced writer. I'm also finding it hard to choose themes that would go well with them. Some of them may not be very romantic, but it's also going to be about their companionship and their connection with one another. But anyway, I won't ramble anymore. Thanks for reading.**


	5. Wound: Quatre and Lista

**083. Wound**

_Quatre/Lista_

Blood seeped through the thick material of his suit. The pain was dull, yet it speared through his limbs like an unsharpened knife. His eyes clouded over, despite how many times he tried to blink his vision back into focus. He pressed his back against the cool wall, resting his head and closing his eyes.

It was only seconds after he closed his eyes that he felt a gentle yet firm hand against his wound, causing a hiss of air to escape his lips from the instant pressure. He snapped his eyes open and found Lista knelt before him now, her eyes swimming in concern, strands of ebony hair fallen against her face. She was staring at the wound, as if analyzing how to best tend to it.

"Lista," he stammered, barely able to choke out her name.

She snapped her head up at him and cupped his face in her free palm, instantly shushing him. "Don't move, and don't talk," she scolded lightly. "I'm going to try stopping the blood flow from the sword puncture. Dorothy got you good." Her forest green eyes narrowed and turned over her shoulder, staring at the blonde woman on her knees. She was staring at the ground while Trowa continued to disengage the mobile doll system on the other side of the room.

"It's… all right," Quatre said, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm. She turned back to look at him, her eyes still hard in anger. "It's all right."

"No, it's not all right," Lista snapped, shaking her head. "There is nothing all right with what she did. She could have killed you."

"But she didn't," Quatre pointed out, coughing weakly. He winced and exhaled loudly, shakily, while trying to find a comfortable spot against the wall once more. He felt hot, like his face was heating up by the second.

"That doesn't make it forgivable, not on my terms," Lista grumbled, focusing her attention back to his wound. She leaned forward, squinting, while she continued to assess his injury. She applied further pressure, causing him to jerk against her, biting back a groan. "You're in pain. I wish there was something more I could do for you. We need to get out of here."

"I'll be all right," he assured her, forcing on a smile. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"I think you're being modest, not to mention you're trying to protect _her_," Lista spat, snarling to herself.

Quatre didn't miss the flare in her frustration. He moaned, snapping his eyes shut once more. He could have sworn he sensed a little bit of jealousy in her voice, but attributed it to delirium from the pain. He was no stranger to Lista's temper, but he much preferred her smile and laughter to the emotions beating off of her now. "You worry far too much for me, Lista," he mumbled, hoping to move on to a lighter subject.

"I think I have every right to worry when you're bleeding all over my hand," Lista pointed out, her voice wavering just slightly, her green eyes softening to a lighter shade against the remaining illuminated screens of the mobile doll control system.

Quatre jerked up at a sudden realization, staring down at her in surprise. "You don't like blood," he said breathlessly, ignoring the spike of pain through his midsection from his abrupt movement. "Lista, move away. I don't want you forcing yourself to do anything for me if it's going to cause you discomfort."

Lista shook her head. "It's a stupid fear for a soldier," she grumbled, moving her hand away just slightly to survey the amount of bleeding. There was very little now, much to Lista's relief. "It seems like most of the blood has clotted anyway. I need something to pad the wound." She looked around the room, even though she was sure there was nothing around that would help her. She bit down on her lip and groaned. "Nothing. Well, I'll have to improvise then." She hurriedly moved her hand away and shed her flight jacket. She grabbed the bottom of her white tank top and jerked the fabric, tearing it raggedly until she had a thick strip several inches long, baring her midriff. "This isn't going to be much, but it will be something to help keep the wound clotted for when we move you to Sandrock. Hopefully it will work until we can get you to a doctor for proper medical treatment."

The Sandrock pilot watched her woozily as she pressed the ripped white fabric against his exposed wound. She tucked it against his jacket and zipped him back up, hoping the firm, thick fabric of his flight suit would be enough to hold the makeshift bandage in place. He sighed and relaxed, silently admitting the fabric felt good against his tender flesh. "Thank you, Lista," he said, cracking a weak smile. "I appreciate the concern."

Lista smiled as she pulled her jacket back over her shoulders, quickly zipping herself back up. She turned over her shoulder at Trowa, who was finishing on disengaging the mobile dolls. Dorothy was still silent on the floor, no doubt basking in her pity. Lista scowled and stared at her for several moments. She considered herself a fairly forgiving person, but for hurting Quatre, she didn't think she could offer the same forgiveness to the cocky blonde woman seated on the floor with her sword lying next to her, stained with Quatre's rich red blood. She swallowed hard and snapped her head away, feeling her anger coming to the peak once more. She had to calm down.

She felt a leather-clad hand fall over her bare, cold one, clasping tightly. She looked up, finding herself locked into an intense gaze with the injured boy. "It doesn't hurt," he said, shaking his head. "I feel all right."

Lista quirked a brow. "Don't try to make me feel better, Quatre. Your face is flushed and you're still showing difficulty breathing. You're in pain whether you want to admit it or not." She scoffed and shook her head. "And people say I'm the stubborn one."

Quatre chuckled weakly and winced, wrapping an arm around his midsection. "Perhaps. We all have a bit of stubbornness. I suppose I can't fool you. I'm a poor actor."

Sighing, Lista squeezed his hand and forced herself to smile, despite the anger that continued to flow through her veins as if it were trying to replace her blood. "Well, when this is all over, I'll give you some other opportunities to try fooling me. But for now, we're going to get you out of here and end this war for good."

The Arabian pilot enjoyed the prospect of a war ending, and even more of getting the opportunity to spend time with his female comrade, one he had grown to love over the course of their many months fighting alongside one another. He smiled and made a confirmatory noise deep in his throat, nodding weakly against the wall. The future outlook after the war's end was welcoming, especially if he would be permitted to live a relatively normal life. Well, as normal as a major company heir could live.

Either way, knowing he would have Lista and the rest of his friends in his life after the war ended was enough to make his sword wound seem nonexistent, as well as the nagging pain that came along with it. All would be well in the end, that much he was for certain, as he felt Lista's hand clamp over his tightly.

* * *

**A/N: So obviously, this scene is at the end of the series following Quatre's battle with Dorothy. I always imagined this scene playing out in my mind if Lista were present. I think they're cute. I hope you enjoyed this!**


	6. Gone: Heero and Relena

**028. Gone**

_Heero/Relena_

She couldn't stop staring out into the horizon. Every time she blinked, it was forced. She hoped the next time she opened her eyes, she would see him flying towards her, coming for her.

Clenching hands at her sides, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. She convinced herself that it was a joke, that the more she stood there wishing it, the more the heavens would continue to laugh at her lack of luck on the matter.

Heero left her. Again. Would he come back this time?

The waves brushed the shoreline with their gentle green hands, leaving a trail in its wake. Relena felt like she was cornered, trapped like a caged bird in her own kingdom. She knew what it was meant to symbolize. A welcoming peace. Welcoming.

So why did it drive him away from her for the countless time?

Unrequited love. She wouldn't wish such a travesty on anyone.

There was a quickened set of gentle raps at her closed door. Spinning around, her heart kicking to a start, she rushed over to the door, her skirts brushing over her legs in a sweep as she rested her palm on the metal knob and turned, swinging the door open. She opened her mouth to say his name, but found herself sorely disappointed.

"Relena, forgive me. I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

Ahh, Quatre. Ever the gentleman.

Shaking her head, she forced on her best smile. "No, of course not. Come in, Quatre."

He bowed his head, saying nothing, and walked past her, taking her previous spot at the large window showcasing the deep blue sea. Nothing could be seen past the water, past the warm-colored horizon as the sun began its descent. He folded his hands behind his back and heaved a deep breath.

"Were you waiting for someone?" the Sandrock pilot finally inquired, turning over his shoulder. Relena was still standing by the door, boring a mental hole through the wood.

She flinched as if she'd suddenly been struck, and spun around quickly to face her guest. "No. No, I wasn't." The words came out in a flurry. She knew they sounded suspiciously like a lie. Obviously they were.

The Peacecraft girl studied Quatre's features as he smiled. He nodded once. "I see."

"Is your stay here comfortable, Quatre?" she suddenly asked. She took several steps forward. "If not, please tell me how I can make it better."

"Oh no, I have no complaints," Quatre immediately refuted, shaking his head. His smile faded behind a concerned frown. "Why? Do you believe there to be?"

Relena didn't answer.

Quatre watched her sea-colored eyes sadden. He quickly sensed such a negative emotion, and deemed it unnecessary for a woman of her important stature. "He didn't leave because he was uncomfortable here," he spoke up. His words seemed to quickly catch her attention, as her eyes lit up and she lifted her head to stare at him, hands folded tight in front of her body. "Heero has always done what he believes is right. He cannot stand idly by while there is a war going on. He was trained to do something in every waking moment. I couldn't stop him."

"Am I that obvious?" she asked meekly. She came to her fellow pacifist's side, staring longingly out into the gentle recesses of the Sanc Kingdom's vast horizon. She didn't wait for him to answer. "Is it a mere fool's errand, Quatre, that I wait for him to come back? Would he even come back?"

"Oh, I am certain he will," Quatre assured her with a wide smile. "He has something to come back to."

Relena offered him a fake chuckle. "You mean you and Lista, of course. You're his comrades in arms. Surely he would not leave you both behind."

Brows raised, Quatre shook his head. "We were all taught to be the solitary soldier. Heero has his own reservations on what must be done, and he has no issue in leaving either Lista or myself behind to do what he believes must be accomplished. He has a strong reason for everything he does." He tilted his head, casting her a sideways glance. "He wishes to keep you safe. He's doing it the only way he was taught how. That is what we all do as soldiers: protect the ones we love."

A genuine smile played upon her pink lips. She felt her cheeks heat up in what she could only discern as a rather noticeable blush. But she hardly cared. "Do you believe he really loves me, Quatre?"

His smile widened. "I can't answer for him, but I have a rather good idea of what the answer is to that. I don't think he would have come here unless he felt something strong for you." He rested a firm hand on her shoulder, keeping her attention before she journeyed off to a far-off place he wouldn't be able to follow. "He may not be here with you in person, but really, he's still here. He left a part of himself behind for you."

Relena mulled over his sage words, drawing a warm comfort from them that seemed to stretch to the tips of her toes. She almost forgot that war was upon them, and Heero was now embroiled in the center of it on his own accord.

He was doing it for her, for her ideals.

He was her champion.

* * *

**A/N: So, this one is the shortest one I've written so far. Also, I realize that the couple called for Heero and Relena, but given the theme, I figured it wouldn't work quite so well if one of them were there. So, of course, I decided to focus on the fact that throughout most of the series, Relena and Heero are separated while he is out fighting. And yes, there is a short mention of Lista, my character. I thought about taking it out, but I figured it was so minute that I just let it be. Quatre's a good confidante. He would sure be the one I'd turn to in a case like this. He can dish out some good, comforting advice. And be advised that not all themes are going to be "romancey" romance. But more than likely, most of them probably will be. This is just one of the exceptions. Hehe. I hope you enjoyed it!**


	7. Dancing: Quatre and Lista

**040. Dancing**

_Quatre/Lista_

The ball was an instant success. Many people were rejoicing over her appointment to ambassador. She could scarcely get a moment away from groups of people that flocked to her, congratulating her. Among them were the Noventas, namely that of the widow of the accidentally slain Field Marshall, who believed her strict soldier upbringing and pacifistic ideals would be the perfect recipe in maintaining the peace she and her comrades fought hard to achieve.

She felt the pressure looming. Politics wasn't her strongest attribute, but she had to admit that she was quite good with handling the needs of everyday people. She considered herself one of those people, despite her largely-publicized upbringing.

Fingers curled over her scarlet red ball gown as she bid adieu to another group of admirers, feigning thirst as her excuse to pardon herself from the current conversation.

She hadn't seen a single one of her friends in nearly an hour. She knew they were there, probably each of them hiding in their own separate corners in hopes that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. No, they considered this her night to receive such attention.

She silently swore to each and every one of them for that. She knew her night would be far from a boring one now, especially with them purposefully shoving her straight into the limelight.

As she reached the refreshment table, she picked up a small glass of punch, deeming it the most appetizing at the moment. She bowed her head to someone reaching for a glass of punch as well—someone she didn't know, but discerned it would be someone she would eventually come to know—and took a swift gulp. The sweet beverage coated her throat with a cool dew. She licked her lips and made a soft content hum within her throat.

She closed her eyes when the band began playing their first waltz of the night. She so loved how music poured through her, filling her soul with newfound life.

She felt a gentle tap on her bare shoulder, prompting her to turn around in curiosity. Her eyes instantly lit up, bright blue ones staring back at her happily.

Quatre, standing before her in his wonderfully black tuxedo-clad glory.

"I was hoping to find you," he said. He offered her his hand, his smile widening and glinting in the light. "Would you like to dance?"

She placed the barely-drank cup of punch back on the table, sliding her palm over his. "I would love to," she said, no thought necessary as he led her onto the dance floor. Couples had begun their dancing, gliding about the room as if on air.

Lista swallowed loudly, noticing in the corner of her eye that several people had stopped mid-dance when they noticed their newly-appointed ambassador taking the floor on the hand of Zayeed Winner's only son.

_Oh god,_ she thought, eyes wide, as Quatre stopped and turned to face her, his smile painted with gleaming happiness. _These people are just going to stare and watch us the whole time?_

Fingers entwined with fingers, a strong arm wrapped about her small waist, Quatre pulled her close to his body, dangerously close for that of a mere waltz, and stared deep into her eyes. She could have sworn his gaze caused the people around her to disappear into a minute cloud of dust; she suddenly felt like they were the only two people in the room, that the band was playing solely for them.

He eased them to a gentle start, gliding her across the floor as if her feet had grown small wings. She felt the skirts of her gown swaying along with her, barely coming in contact with the tiled floor beneath her heeled feet. Her fingers clung to his neck for dear life, and for the first time that night, she flashed a genuine smile, not one forced on to sate her seemingly countless admirers.

Quatre was the only admirer she would smile for.

"You look lovely," Quatre murmured to her, lashes hiding the shyness deep within the ocean blue of his eyes. "Red is a gorgeous color on you."

Scarlet splashed her cheeks, matching that of the gown Quatre just finished complimenting. "Thank you," she whispered back. "You look good, too. Formal attire suits you well."

"So you've said before," Quatre replied with a smile, leading them in a dizzying circle in time with the smooth waltz playing around them. "I am glad I am the first to claim a dance from you tonight."

"I'd prefer if you were the only one to claim all my dances," Lista admitted. Like the ocean hugs the shore, she pulled him close to her, uncaring of what the bystanders thought of their bodies pressed together as they continued to dance about the room.

Quatre released a hearty laugh and shook his head. "If only I would be so lucky. However, I don't believe many people would approve if I were to dominate all of your time. There are many people who would like to steal you away for several precious minutes."

Lista couldn't help but frown, despite the intimate position they were in as he continued to make her sway to the music slowly disappearing from their ears. "I don't want all of that attention," she pointed out. "At least, not from them."

The blonde pilot was quick to catch her meaning. The intensity of their dancing lessened while his hold on her only got tighter. He leaned in to her, tasting her sweet breath against his lips. He wanted to kiss her in front of everyone here, no matter how indecent it may seem to do so.

Instead, he continued to waltz her about the hall, insistent on showing everyone that way just how much he loved her. In his mind, he was screaming his possession over her, how lucky he deemed himself to have his heart in her capable hands, and to hold hers ever so delicately.

"You're quite a dancer," Lista said with a quiet chuckle. "I suppose this was only one of the things you learned being such an auspicious member of high society." Her lips curved into a sly smile. "I look forward to doing business with you in the future. I'm assuming I will have to do so since your company finances many projects in the Colonies."

"Indeed," Quatre agreed with a brisk nod. He took quick note that the waltz was in its final moments, and couldn't help but feel a small sense of sadness sweep over him like a gentle breeze. "I hope our business dealings with one another will bear fruit for the Colonies."

"I'm sure they will," she replied, her dainty fingers flexing over his collar-clothed neck. "But we will have plenty of time to talk business in the future. For now, I just want to keep dancing."

"The song is nearly over, sweetheart," he informed, his smile fading. "I am sure someone else will wish to ask you to grace them with a dance."

"Well, they will have to wait until I get my fill of dancing with you," she said, her stubbornness rearing its head for the first time in the night. "And I don't believe it's going to be anytime soon."

Quatre couldn't remember having ever thanked her father for passing down such a loveable personality trait to the woman he had swaying in his arms. As the song ended and another began, causing couples to scatter and find new partners, he continued to lead her about the floor in a musical flight that only the two of them were capable of taking.

He promised he would make her sway, and he fully intended on keeping such a vow.


	8. Silence: Trowa and Salaehya

**018. Silence**

_Trowa/Salaehya_

Nothingness. Even the hiss of breath was nearly deafening. There was nothing to say; either that, or no one wanted to say anything.

It would have been a contrary belief that on a large a ship as Peacemillion was, there would be at least some inkling of sound in the distance, whether it be Howard yelling orders to his mechanics, the sound of metal scraping, or the tinkering of tools against gundanium.

But no, there was still nothing.

Salaehya could scarcely stand it anymore. She sat straight against the wooden chair, Trowa to her left, with arms crossed firm across her chest. Her fellow comrades were present in the room as well, but no one had spoken a word for hours. Or at least it felt like hours. Salaehya wasn't quite sure how much time had passed. There was no clock in the room, and she dared not to peer at her watch. She kept it tucked under her sleeve as if it were a priceless treasure meant to be hidden.

Their last fight was tiring and difficult, and since they returned, they all retreated to the recreational room and kept to themselves. Wufei was now in the corner of the room, legs crossed and elbows perched on his knees as he meditated himself into a coma. Duo had three chairs lined up together, using it as a makeshift bed as he rested his back against the wall with his eyes closed. Quatre and Lista sat in a similar fashion as Salaehya and Trowa, their chairs all but glued together. Quatre's head craned back against the wall, his hands folded in his lap while Lista unconsciously used his shoulder as her pillow.

And, of course, her dear twin brother Heero was on the Libra, no doubt watching over Relena like an obedient guardian. She knew she wouldn't have been able to stop him even if she tried. He was where he needed to be.

Salaehya finally turned her head to peer up at Trowa, who continued to sit silently as well. His arms were crossed over his chest, just as hers were, and his eyes were closed. She bit down on her bottom lip, wanting to ask how he was doing. His memories had returned full-force, and even though he had assured her that he was fine, she still wasn't so sure.

Her arms loosened from her chest, resting carefully at her sides. She could feel the warmth from his body melting into her when one of her arms came in contact with his. He cracked open his eyes, but didn't look at her. He kept his attention cemented in his lap.

She was grateful to know he was still alive after how still he'd been able to keep himself.

She opened her mouth to speak, but there were no words available to her. She didn't even know what she wanted to say; she just wanted to shatter the silence. It was becoming unbearable by the second. She normally had no issue with the silence, but _this_ was a delicate situation. It unnerved her further to know that Duo, the loudest and by far the most talkative of the group, had become just as quiet as the rest of them.

She didn't like his conformity.

Salaehya released a heavy sigh and slumped back against her chair, gripping the edges of her seat to prevent herself from falling further. Her eyes started to close into a thoughtful stupor when she felt gentle fingers graze over hers.

She snapped her head down, watching as a broad hand slid over to blanket hers. She looked up at Trowa in curiosity; he was staring at her now. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as an invisible fist clamped over her lungs. There were dark circles under his eyes. She didn't realize until then just how tired he must have been.

In their wordless silence, his deep green depths spoke volumes to her. She stared at him, slowly blinking, as he seemed to prompt her into a slumber they both needed, to follow the lead of their teammates.

She didn't realize that she was falling into his side, resting her head against the trail of his arm. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent, his intoxicating warmth. She made a contented hum in her throat when she felt his fingers spread hers, threading their hands together in a comforting squeeze.

In their soundless haze, she seemed driven to a calm trance. Just as time passed around them like the constant change of the seasons, it did so again, Salaehya's only inkling of time's transient by counting the even beats of her own heart.

She felt Trowa rest his cheek against the top of her head, nestling himself against the soft bed of her dark chestnut hair. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the subtle sound of his pulse and the slow rise and fall of his shoulder as he breathed. It was like a silent symphony, coaxing her to sleep with a gentle rhythm.

It was then that she realized they had never truly showed their affection towards one another when their friends were around, choosing to keep it on the secret side. But now, for some reason, it didn't matter to her whether her teammates were there, or even if they were conscious to the fact they had feelings for one another.

She couldn't explain it, even as Trowa's thumb grazed a back and forth trail along her hand as he continued to hold it tight. All she could do was ponder it as her exhaustion took hold over her. She didn't have the opportunity to let her thoughts wander. The last thing she remembered was feeling Trowa's lips place a chaste kiss against her temple before once again resting himself against the top of her head.

Perhaps sometimes silence spoke louder than words. That was all it took.

* * *

**A/N: Another short one, namely because I wanted to keep in line with the theme itself. So obviously, no dialogue. Hope you enjoyed it.**


	9. In My Arms: Heero and Relena

**065. (In My) Arms **

_Heero/Relena_

Relena Peacecraft, or rather, Relena Darlian as she preferred to be called, knew if she wanted anything in the world, she could have it. She knew she was adored by most people in the Colonies, by pretty much everyone that worked with her. She knew how much they idolized her as an advocate for the peace.

But there was one thing she felt like she would never have, and that was the stoic soldier who stole her heart from the very moment she set eyes upon him on the beach and ran off without so much as a word.

Closing her eyes, she remembered she was in the middle of her work day, and she needed to finish her paperwork before her superiors had her head. The last thing she needed to be doing was daydreaming about him and wondering what things would be like if things had turned out more in her favor.

She was never one to dwell on the "what ifs" but she had to admit she couldn't help it this time. She wanted to know what it would be like to be loved by Heero Yuy.

Sighing in exasperation, and deciding her own thoughts were causing her to crash and burn, she decided she needed to stretch her legs and perhaps get a drink of water.

Pushing herself from her desk, she left her office, waving and greeting the passersby as she headed for the elevator. She walked inside and pushed the button for the bottom floor, wishing to perhaps take a small stroll around the building for a bit of fresh air before doing anything else.

Ironically enough, she needed silence, despite the fact she had plenty of that in her office. She just needed a change of pace, somewhere that wouldn't take advantage of her waning thoughts.

The elevator doors slid open and as if she were under a spell, strolled out of the building, ignoring the usher that opened the door for her. She blindly walked towards the back of the building and sighed deeply. Knowing she was now out of sight, she leaned against the skyscraper and closed her eyes, tuning out the hustle and bustle of her fellow business associates as they entered and exited the building like drones.

She didn't know why she felt so tortured. She thought she'd gotten over this fling she had for the Wing Zero pilot by the time the war ended, but it was obvious such was not the case. She felt like a little girl, ruled by her hormones and her emotions rather than logical thought. And even that backfired; she knew she couldn't rely on her heart to guide her, but now her thoughts betrayed her as well.

She was cornered.

She was barely aware of the single tear that trickled down her face, dropping to the cement next to her feet. She kept the sobs silent, hoping no one would find her in such a vulnerable state. The last thing she wanted was to be found, leaving her to explain herself.

"You shouldn't be out here alone."

Relena's eyes snapped open at the familiar husky male voice that made her heart skip a beat. But no one was there. She pushed herself from the building and looked around, finding nothing that would disprove she was finally going insane and hearing his voice.

She groaned aloud and rubbed her temple with two fingers, deciding perhaps this was not the best idea she had. She turned on her heel and began to make her way around the building when she felt a firm hand clamp around her wrist. The force jerked her back, and she opened her mouth to scream, but another hand slid over her lips, just enough to muffle her cry for help.

Her body was pulled into the warmth of the assailant's, and she jerked her head around, needing to know who had her so firmly in his grasp.

She gasped. Surely she wasn't going _this _crazy. If so, God had quite the sense of humor to be playing with her senses now as well.

Was he really the one holding on to her for dear life, as if the fiery touch of his skin was meant to send icy chills shooting through her body?

"Heero?"

He made a confirmatory noise in the bed of his throat, but made no move to release her. If anything, he pulled her closer into his arms, her back still plastered against his jacket-clad chest.

She couldn't stop staring at him over her shoulder, and she had to admit how uncomfortable it was quickly getting. Her discomfort, however, became nonexistent.

She had to ask.

"Heero, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice meek. Where did her confidence go? She sounded like a small, petulant child.

"Watching you," he simply answered. He finally loosened his grip on her, giving her the swift opportunity to spin around, facing him head-on. "You shouldn't go anywhere without bodyguards. Anyone could come out here and hurt you."

"I don't need security to watch my every single move," Relena said, somewhat displeased by the insinuation that she couldn't take care of herself. "I'm right here. Nothing bad could possibly happen when I'm only feet away from the front door."

"I could have kidnapped you, and no one would've known until it was too late," Heero pointed out wryly, a strange glint flickering in his cobalt eyes. "If I am able to take those liberties, someone else could do the same. You need to be more careful."

Relena opened her mouth to rebuke, but had nothing to say. She wanted to ask him why _he_ hadn't kidnapped her. She considered it a pleasant notion where most would surely fear for their lives. But not her. She would do just about anything to get attention from him, even if it was negative. It was still attention. Pathetic, she knew.

And people wondered why she continued to chase after him during the war even after his constant threats to kill her. He hadn't done it yet. She was sure he had no plans on doing it now.

"Have you come for a specific reason?" Relena suddenly asked, her curiosity getting the better of her before she could even think about it. She quickly wanted to take the question back. Somehow she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer, or if she would even get a suitable one to begin with.

"Why were you crying?" he inquired, countering her question with one of his own. He folded his arms over his chest, frowning.

"I… I was just thinking about something. It was nothing. I needed to get away from the office for some air for a couple minutes," Relena explained clumsily, unable to control the stammer in her voice. She lowered her head, no longer able to face his intense gaze. "It was nothing at all. It's always nothing."

Arms threaded around her shoulders, yanking her back into the warm confines of his chest. "It's never nothing with you," he said quietly. Relena could've sworn she heard sympathy in his voice, but attributed it to the fact her senses were on the fritz and she was merely taken off guard by his sudden interest in her.

She pressed her hands against his chest. "Heero…"

"I watch over you all the time," he said, his voice raspy. "You don't need security following you around because I'm always there."

Relena's eyes widened at the confession. Her heart came to a crashing halt in her chest. "What? You… You watch me?"

Heero said nothing. He merely tightened his arms around her shoulders, keeping her close to him. She closed her eyes, releasing a sigh of air through her nose. Her fingers curled over the thick material of his jacket, and knew everything she needed to as she stood in his arms, and all other doubt she had was flushed out of her body, out of her traitorous mind, out of her leaping heart.

She didn't need to know why he was there with her now, why he insisted on holding her.

He was there.


	10. Tired: Trowa and Salaehya

**058. Tired**

_Trowa/Salaehya_

Trowa didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the cockpit of Heavyarms, but judging by the sudden weight on his eyes, he assumed it'd been a good deal of time.

Stars flickered in his eyes from staring at his computer screen for too long, prompting him to snap his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, hoping to alleviate the sudden feeling of lightheadedness.

It had been like this for days, sharpening the controls on his Gundam for the next fight, and never knowing when it would come. He wanted to be prepared. He _had_ to be prepared. There was far too much at stake not to be at this point.

Deciding he needed a few minutes to stretch his legs, he pulled himself from his cockpit, peering out into the vast garage that housed his Gundam as well as Salaehya's. The hatch to her cockpit was open, but he could see or hear no movement. Curious, he jumped down from the Heavyarms and walked over to the Fatality, fighting the yawn that insisted on taking him over.

"Salaehya? Are you up there?" he called up, coming to a stop at the bottom of her Gundam. Like his, it was laying flat on its back and in the middle of repairs. It wasn't like her to leave a job unfinished. There were tools and various parts scattered alongside the legs of her suit.

Making a curious noise under his breath, he climbed up the Gundam to survey what was going on inside the cockpit. It was possible she was in the middle of a simulation and couldn't answer him.

Peering down into the cockpit, he saw Salaehya was in fact sitting in her pilot's seat, the harnesses hanging loosely from the sides of the chair. Trowa found himself smiling at the spectacle; the female Yuy twin had drifted off in the middle of maintenance on her control system.

He studied her for a moment and wondered how different she looked in sleep as opposed to when she was awake. Her face was void of wrinkles normally brought on by anger, aggravation or concentration. Her mouth was open ever so slightly as deep breaths passed through her lungs.

He hated to wake her, but he knew she'd probably be aggravated that she fell asleep to begin with in the middle of her work. She did hate to be interrupted when making repairs on her Gundam. And, of course, her cockpit was the last comfortable place to be taking a nap. She needed a bed, or at least a sofa.

He reached in, slowly grazing his hand along her face. "Wake up, Salaehya," he whispered. He cupped his hand over her face, nudging her slightly. She moaned and shifted at his gentle touch, but made no motion to awaken.

"Hmm." He knew he had to be careful waking her up; she was normally a rather light sleeper, not to mention a defensive one. She could probably disfigure his face in seconds if he woke her too quickly or too forcefully. Her exhaustion had to have dipped rather low for her responsiveness to lower as much as it had. But then again, he knew it had to have been bad if she succumbed to it in the first place.

He nudged her again, this time with a light tap on her cheek. "Salaehya."

Her eyes fluttered and she muttered incoherent syllables that he could only assume were supposed to be his name. He tapped her cheek again, hoping to rouse her completely from her sleep-induced haze.

Cobalt met forest green, both lagged with an exhaustion neither would speak of. "I fell asleep?" Salaehya asked, her words slurred with disbelief.

"Apparently," Trowa replied with a smile. He pointed to the screen in front of her. "The diagnostics on your Gundam have probably been complete for some time. It looks as if everything is in order."

Salaehya gazed at him for a moment before turning to look at the review of the computer test she'd been running when she apparently succumbed to sleep. She typed several random keys, and the screen darkened to nothing. She released a heavy sigh and sifted her long fingers through the thick strands of her chestnut brown hair. "At least that's finished. I didn't even realize how tired I was."

"It's been a long day for the both of us," Trowa admitted. "Perhaps we should take a break and rest for a little while. We've made a good deal of headway."

Salaehya instantly frowned, shaking her head. "There's still a lot that needs to be done. I don't want to rest until it's done."

"We're not robots like them, Salaehya," he replied sternly. "We need sleep. You and I both know that we should take at least an hour to sleep before coming back to work. We're useless like this. We're liable to make mistakes."

Salaehya opened her mouth to rebuke, but knew she couldn't argue with his logic. She sighed in defeat and pulled herself from the cockpit, following Trowa's descent from her Gundam. As soon as her feet touched the cement, he offered his hand to her. She gladly took it, and he led her from the garage and straight for the living quarters.

Even as she walked, she felt as if she had to work to get her limbs to function. She stifled a yawn as quietly as she could and had to wonder if there was something in the air impairing her ability to stay awake. She normally had more control than this.

The two pilots walked into the small bedroom provided for them. Trowa shut the door behind them and watched as Salaehya made her way straight for the bed on the other side of the room. She pulled the blankets back and climbed in, pulling the sheets under her arms and resting her head on the lush pillows.

Trowa smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the chair next to the door. He followed suit, sliding in to the bed next to Salaehya. He turned to look at her, prepared to wish her a restful nap, but when he opened his mouth to speak and laid his eyes on her, he saw that his female copilot had already fallen deep into slumber.

He grazed his fingers against her forehead and smiled before placing a soft kiss against her temple. He settled into her side and permitted fatigue to reign over him and pull him into a much-needed sleep.


	11. Rain: Quatre and Lista

**015. Rain**

_Quatre/Lista_

Quatre tossed a concerned glance at the darkening sky overhead. Gray clouds were looming and billowing together, successfully winning over the cerulean blue in a matter of moments. The sun had since been captured by the unwelcome clouds. This wasn't good.

A hand squeezed over his, jerking his attention from the quickly changing weather to the smiling face of the woman who he'd been lucky enough to spend his afternoon with.

"You okay?" she asked, flicking a stray ebony bang out of her eye.

"A storm is coming," he replied, pointing a finger towards the sky. "I'm afraid we'll get stuck in a rainfall, and I'd hate for you to get stuck in it. You could get sick, Lista."

The ebony-haired girl only smiled wider. "I'm not worried. We can take a little rain. We can just go in one of these stores to wait for it to pass if we have. There's no rush, after all," she assured him.

"Even so…" Quatre sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know the weather was going to change so drastically; otherwise, I would have made different arrangements for our date this afternoon. We could have done something indoors."

"It's all right, Quatre. Really," she said, waving her hand up and down. "Maybe it will hold off enough for us to get back."

Quatre gave another worrisome stare up at the sky, the clouds now meshed together into one ash-colored storm-wielding entity. Somehow Lista's attempt at positivity was lost on him. Frowning, he shook his head. Upon picking her up earlier that day, he deemed the weather suitable for their lunchtime date

Lista was a big fan of springtime, when the sun kissed newly-born flowers and the trees sang in the breeze. Freshly-cut grass was caught in the air, carried along with the birds that returning home after a long winter.

Their date seemed flawless until now. There was a sudden chill in the air, one that normally warned of imminent rainfall. He didn't think it would be long now.

"Stop worrying," Lista scolded, giving his arm a gentle tug. "You can't predict what the weather will do." With arched brows, she added under her breath, "And apparently neither can meteorologists."

Quatre sighed heavily in frustration. "I suppose we should think about finding shelter, sweetheart, before we are inevitably soaked," he suggested. No sooner did the words leave his lips, a single drop of rain prickled his cheek. Turning his head up, he watched a gentle spray of rain begin its descent upon them.

"It looks like we're too late after all," Lista replied.

Other people around them scurried into nearby stores, seeking refuge from the coming rain. Lista, however, pulled Quatre to a stop and craned her head, allowing the drops of rain to sprinkle against her face.

"Lista, we should get inside," Quatre advised, removing his hand from hers so he could shed his leather jacket. He moved to drape it over her bare shoulders, but she stopped him, placing her hand over one of his.

"It's okay," she said. "I don't mind a little rain. You can go inside if you want, though."

Quatre's eyes widened as if she suddenly grew horns. He pulled his jacket towards his chest. "Lista, you'll get a cold if you don't cover up," he pointed out. His brows and forehead furrowed. "And I'm not leaving you out here by yourself in the rain. Don't be absurd."

Normally such a statement would have aggravated or insulted her, but Lista just continued to smile. "So you want to be caught in the rain with me?" she asked, her lashes weighed down by the droplets of rain beaded on them.

Quatre opened his mouth to respond, but Lista stepped forward, took the jacket from his hands and swathed it back over his shoulders. "I would rather my date not catch a cold," she said with a giggle. She slid her hands around his waist, her fingers curling into the damp creases of his tucked shirt. "I used to play in the rain all the time when I was a little girl. The only sister that liked playing with me was Carina. Gabby and Alessandra hated the rain. But Carina and I would make a day of playing in the rain and catching raindrops on our tongues. We would always try to make a game of who could catch the most raindrops, but it was always too hard to keep count. I enjoyed those days, before they were consumed by my military training. It reminds me of more innocent times in my life."

Quatre watched her drag her tongue over her lips, tasting the refreshing beads laying dormant there. "You never told me that," he replied in a whisper. "As you probably already know, rain is fairly uncommon in Saudi Arabia. All we know there is heat and sand. Rain is a… welcome change sometimes."

Lista leaned in, brushing her cold nose against the tip of his. "That's good. You see? Rain is not a bad thing, is it?"

For the first time since he caught a glimpse of that first darkened cloud, Quatre smiled. "No, I suppose not."

His mouth slanted over hers, kissing her just as gently as the rain kissed the ground with every passing second. He suddenly gave no care of the darkened clouds above them, his leather jacket now fallen to the sidewalk, or the people inside the nearby stores watching them intently as they continued their sweet embrace.

No, the rain wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**A/N: It's been awhile since I've written one of these. This was born from the fact that I haven't had power in a couple of days, and figured I could write a little fluff in the dark and transfer it to a computer once I had the opportunity. I'm actually still out of power, and am staying at a hotel room tonight in preparation for work tomorrow morning, so more little writings may be coming your way. :)**


	12. Cold: Quatre and Lista

**022. Cold**

_Quatre/Lista_

Quatre could have wished for a more pleasant way of waking up in the morning. Despite the blankets wrapped around his body, and the more than favorable woman nestled deep into his side, every inch of his body felt like ice.

He rubbed his hand against his face, which only seemed to make matters worse; his nose felt like it was close to falling off. Through stubborn eyelashes, he peered over at the nightstand for the time. The clock's face was blank.

Groaning, the pilot of Sandrock quickly discerned that winter had decided to show its crueler side and knock out their power sometime in the middle of the night, thus disabling the heat in the house. Blinking several times, Quatre glanced over his bedmate's shoulder, careful not to wake her, and saw the deadened branches blanketed with several inches of glistening clean snow.

He was never so glad to come from Saudi Arabia than he was at that moment. He could do without the cold, and he could very well do without the inches of snow caked outside the house.

He figured the power had to have been out for quite some time if it felt as cold as it did. He couldn't even remember when he fell asleep. His last memory was making love to the woman next to him and watching her succumb to her exhaustion in his arms. The memory, fresh in his mind, brought a smile to his face.

He shifted his body carefully, tucking his toes back to avoid contact with her. The last thing he wanted was for her to be awakened in such a manner. Instead, he closed his eyes and prayed for sleep to capture him again, and perhaps upon waking, power would be restored, and thus, so would the blissful heat he was so accustomed to.

Quatre wasn't sure how long he lay there, waiting for sleep that never came. He groaned and thoughtlessly jerked to his side, hoping for a more comfortable position.

Dark lashes fluttered before revealing the emerald green eyes underneath. "Is it morning?" a female voice rasped between chapped lips.

If Quatre swore, he would have bit back a curse at accidentally waking the woman next to him. Instead, his hand fell upon her bare shoulder. "I'm afraid so, sweetheart, but I don't know what time it is. The power seems to be out. The snowstorm must have been worse than originally predicted. It seems to be quite cold in the house. I suppose it would have been better for us if we clothed after making love last night."

She curled her knees up to her stomach and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. "We didn't know. It's okay," she mumbled against him. "We can just lay here until it comes back on, then. I don't like the cold."

Quatre couldn't help but break a smile. "Lista, we'll have to get up eventually. We'll need to eat at some point throughout the day, plus it would be a good idea for us to get dressed. I don't think we'll be able to stay warm by just laying here together."

"And why not?" she asked, peeking up at him through one exposed eye. "Our body heat should be good enough. I would rather not get out of bed, but you are more than welcome to do it if you want to get us clothes. Or another blanket. We might need one."

Quatre wrapped his arms around her back, tugging her into him. "I'll get one if you'd like one. I would just like to lay here for a moment before summoning the courage to face the cold. There is no telling just how long we have been going without heat."

Despite lying in his arms and having a thick comforter draped over her, a chill shimmied down her spine. She retreated deeper into his side. "Dear god, I've been awake for two minutes and I'm already freezing. I think I liked being asleep and completely unaware of the weather."

Quatre knew it was unintentional, but he couldn't help the guilt flooding him. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Let me get you another blanket and a bathrobe." Just as he shifted away from her and swung the blankets away from his body, the cold slammed into him like a frigid ocean wave.

Hands nearly clawed at his shoulders, jerking him back under the blankets. "Holy god, just stay here, Quatre," Lista said, wrapping an arm around his chest until her breasts pressed against his back. "It's too cold to get out of this bed. We'll get frostbite or something at this rate. I'll be fine. Now get back here."

Quatre turned over his shoulder, peering at Lista in the corner of his eye as she nuzzled her face in the top of his shoulder, fingers splaying over his chest in a welcoming blanket of warmth. "Are you sure? I can get you something."

He felt her shaking her head against his back, the wispy tendrils of her bangs tickling his skin. "No. I changed my mind. I just want you to stay here. I think you can keep me warm all on your own."

The Arabian pilot chuckled to himself, Lista's stubbornness once again rearing its head. "I would much prefer to stay here with you anyway, but so long as you'll be warm, I'm satisfied."

Lista's giggle vibrated against her throat. "I'll be warm as long as you're right here with me."

Quatre spun around to face her, wrapping his arms tight around her back until she was molded into his own curves, seated together like two puzzle pieces. He kneaded his lips against her temple. He supposed that things could be a great deal worse than what they were.

Lista suddenly shuffled in his arms, turning to hover over him with a beaming smile. Her ebony hair fell like a dark curtain around them. "So, do you still think it was a bad idea that we didn't put clothes on last night before going to bed?" She tilted her head to the side, sticking out her tongue a little at him. "I, personally, don't see any harm in it whatsoever."

With a lopsided grin and an arched brow, Quatre's arms returned to their position around Lista's back, yanking her down on top of him. "Are you implying something, sweetheart?"

Lista shrugged, biting back the widening smile. "I'm not implying anything. But you're a resourceful man, and one of the most intelligent, handsome people I know. I'm sure you will find a way to make blankets and clothes obsolete as a means of getting warm."

Quatre felt his cheeks heat up in a scarlet blush meant to rival the color of the ripest strawberry, and came to the realization that a power outage certainly had its benefits.


	13. Parents: Quatre and Lista

**016. Parents**

_Quatre/Lista_

Quatre was jittery. His eyes kept scoping the hands of his desk clock. His business day was nearly over, and normally he would be beyond thrilled to go home and relax in the comfort of his study. But today, he didn't have that option.

Swallowing against the growing lump in his throat, he pushed himself from his chair and walked to his door, preparing to leave. Lista was probably waiting for him by now, more than likely chatting with his secretary like she normally did. The thought of her ringing laughter calmed him for total of seven seconds before dread crashed over him like an avalanche once again.

He opened his door with a much-needed deep breath, opting to meet his anxiety rather than run from it like he was tempted to do.

"Quatre! You're done!" Lista's voice seemingly chirped as he walked towards her and his seated secretary behind her desk. Arms swung around his neck, pulling him into a familiar vanilla and lavender-scented body. "How was your day?"

"Not much different than any other," Quatre replied, knowing his words were a lie. He'd been dreading the evening as soon as he awoke that morning, long before the dawn.

"Well, I suppose that can be a good thing," Lista answered. She pulled away, studying his zombie-like daze. She noticed him tapping his foot in a quickened, erratic beat. "So, umm, are you ready to go?"

Quatre flashed her a confident smile. "Of course. Whenever you are." Another lie.

Lista clapped her hands together excitedly. "Good. We should get going then, so we're not late." She peeked over the high expanse of the desk where a silent middle-aged woman had been typing at her computer. "It was nice talking to you as always, Moranda."

The brunette woman perked her head up and flashed a beaming smile. "Oh, as always, Miss Lista. Have a good evening. You as well, Master Quatre."

Quatre waved his hand to her as Lista tugged on his arm, pulling him towards the elevators. As soon as she pushed the down button, the doors slid open and the twosome walked inside the empty elevator.

As soon as the doors shut, Lista turned to Quatre, placing her hands on her hips. "Okay, why are you so nervous?" she asked with an arched brow.

Quatre looked at her, nearly stunned. "What? I'm not—"

"I hope you're not making it a habit to lie to me, Quatre," she interrupted in warning. "Just tell me why you're so nervous about tonight."

Quatre heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm sorry, Lista. I just want to make a good impression. This is a big step for the both of us."

Lista lowered her arms to her sides. "Are you saying you want to wait to do this?"

Quatre was already shaking his head. "No, absolutely not. Putting this off would only have negative consequences. It's better that we do this now. I would hate to have your parents see me as a coward," he replied. He looked away from her, ashamed. "And I know how important this is to you. I don't want to disappoint you. I am serious about this, about _us_. Your parents deserve to know who their daughter is romantically involved with."

Lista took a step closer to him, resting her hands on his shoulders. "You shouldn't worry so much. My parents will love you. They would be crazy not to. All you have to do to impress them is show up tonight and be yourself." She released a giggle. "I think you would have to put forth more effort _not_ to impress them than you would to actually impress them."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the main lobby floor. Lista pulled Quatre out, sliding her arm through his. "I'm nervous too, you know."

Quatre winced as they walked through the lobby, security and other personnel greeting them cheerily and bidding them both a good day. "That doesn't make me feel any better, Lista."

"But you and I are in this together," she pointed out. "I'm not going to leave you to fend for yourself. And besides, my parents aren't at all scary. My mother already loves you. She's been dying to meet you since the moment I first mentioned you, even before we started dating."

"And your father?" Quatre started with a frown. "He's a military man. He was probably bred with intimidation tactics in his blood from the moment he was born."

Lista couldn't help but laugh, which only seemed to make Quatre's face furrow even deeper. "Only when he doesn't get his way. He's a big teddy bear on the inside. Having four daughters does that. I think he'll just be ecstatic to have another man around. He was actually the one who suggested we do this tonight."

"Really? Your father?" Quatre opened the front door, letting Lista out first. "I suppose I should be relieved." His hand sought hers as soon as they cleared the doors. "But that still doesn't explain why you're nervous as well. You certainly don't need to concern yourself with meeting _my_ parents," he pointed out.

Lista's mouth hung agape. "I don't consider that a relief at all! I would have loved to meet them! They had to have been remarkable people to give birth to someone as wonderful as you."

Quatre smiled, squeezing her hand as they came to the waiting car in front of the building. "Thank you, sweetheart. So, tell me why you're nervous."

Walking down the impressive expanse of steps down to the main road, Lista lowered her head, staring at her heeled feet as they made their careful descent. "I don't know. I know they'll love you as much as I do, and the prospect of impressing them doesn't even bother me. My sisters will adore you as soon as you walk in the house, to be sure. My family is not a problem. I guess I just know what this whole thing means for us, and it makes me nervous."

Quatre's eyes widened, craning his neck back to gaze upon her in surprise. "Do you mean… You fear that we're taking the next step in our relationship? Is it getting too serious for you too fast?"

Lista snapped her head up, appearing rather jilted and almost insulted at the insinuation. "No!" She sighed exasperatingly. "No, that's not it at all. I want a serious relationship with you. I'm in it for the long haul. I guess it's just made my mind reel on what the next step might be for us, and how far along that would be. I guess I'm not nervous. Maybe just anxious about everything." She rested her hand on his curled arm. "I wish I would have the honor of meeting your parents. I would have loved to know them. I guess I also kinda regret that I won't be able to ever meet them."

"Lista, I think they would be happy to hear you say that," Quatre replied with a smile. "My father was a strict man, sometimes difficult to please. But he loved me and my sisters very much. It may not have been clear to me at the time, but I know it now. I think he would have loved you. My mother, from what I understand, was not very hard to please at all. I think the two of you would have been good friends more than anything."

They came to a stop before their car, and he turned to her, taking both of her hands in his. "Look at it this way. You can meet all of my sisters if you're feeling like you're missing out. I'm sure they would all love to meet you. It's not as if I don't talk about you to them on a daily basis."

Lista felt the blush creeping up on her cheeks. "Well, that's sweet to know. But 29 of them? My god, Quatre. That's a lot of sisters for me to meet. That's almost more intimidating than meeting your parents. At least then I would only have two people to impress. Now I have 29."

Quatre's laugh vibrated against his throat and carried through the air like a feather. "I assure you that my sisters are all rather jovial women. I'm sure they would love you no matter what." He leaned in, pressing a kiss against the side of her mouth. "Thank you for confiding in me, sweetheart. It makes me feel a great deal better. So, shall we go? We don't want to keep your parents waiting."

Lista detached one of her hands from his, cupping his cheek. "I think that's a good idea. If you think my cooking is good, just wait until you taste my mother's. You may never want to leave."

"That is a prospect that I don't find intimidating in the least, Lista."


	14. Bed: Duo and Melody

**035. Bed**

_Duo/Melody_

After pinning back the long, flame-orange side-swept bangs that framed her face, Melody flashed her reflection a quick smile before leaving the bathroom, finding Duo, chestnut hair unbraided across his back in a waterfall of unspeakably soft proportions, pulling down the blankets of his bed.

Melody was always surprised to find how neat he kept his room. For the many times she had visited him, she always found it to be rather tidy. He seemed to be the last of the Gundam pilots in her mind that would have such an orderly bedroom. His bed was always made, his blankets smoothed out and crisp, even after a chaotic night of housing Duo's manic sleeping habits.

But then again, she didn't know anything about that. Tonight would be the first night she would share his bed. She was nervous, anxious. She didn't know how she felt. Her anxiety swirled around in her stomach as she stood behind him, watching him tug back the top blanket. She couldn't help but stare at his well-toned physique, the rippling of his muscles in his arms, the tightened muscles of his calves. She silently thanked him for dressing in a black tank-top and gray shorts.

"Keep staring and your eyes might pop out of your head," Duo spoke up with a curled grin. "You're boosting my ego, you know."

Melody blinked out of her stupor; she hadn't realized he was watching her as she admired him. "Sorry," she apologized, shaking her head. "I suppose I should have helped you prepare the bed instead of just standing here watching you."

Duo waved his hand dismissively. "Not a problem, babe. I guess you can't help but let your mind wander. It's the first time you're getting me in bed. Should be fun." He flashed his teeth in a wide happy-go-lucky grin.

Melody felt a heated cherry-hued blush creep up on her cheeks. "Duo! It's not like that! We're not going to—" She stopped herself, deciding it best not to complete her sentence.

But the damage was done as she watched an ego-boosting glint sparkle against the violet of his eyes. "Are you sure? You think you can keep your hands to yourself in bed tonight? I know how irresistible you find me," he said, winking and clicking his tongue.

"Get real, Duo Maxwell," she scoffed with the smallest hint of an amused smile. "Besides, I'm far too tired to do anything like… like _that_." She propped her hands on her hips, a brow arching over her forehead. "And shouldn't our first time be more memorable than that? We're talking about it so casually." She snapped her head, her eyes finding a random point on the wall to focus on. "I had it pictured a little differently in my mind."

Duo stared at her for a moment before taking one large step towards her—that's all it took to close the distance—and he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Babe, it will be more than memorable. I'll take of that, don't you worry. You won't ever be able to forget about it."

Melody slapped his arm playfully, especially after she saw how deadly serious he was. That topic of discussion was just a little embarrassing for her. "That's enough out of you, mister, or I'm going home for bed."

"Hell no! I'm too excited for this!" he exclaimed. He folded his arms over his chest. "You're sleeping in my bed tonight, woman. That's that. You better like it."

Melody covered her mouth just in time for a giggle. "Well, I suppose it's about time to find out. I'm exhausted."

"Say no more." Duo quickly scooped Melody up in his arms, rousing a high-pitched squeak from her throat. Before she could question him, he eased her gently onto his exposed bed, following her down carefully.

Melody felt her heart skip a beat against her breast. His eye were almost smoldering into hers. She felt like she may snap under the pressure of his vivid stare.

"So babe," he started, his smile now faded behind seriousness. "Are we really just gonna sleep tonight? It's our first night in bed together. I had a little more pictured in my head, ya know."

Melody swallowed loudly, much to her aggravation and Duo's amusement. His serious persona faltered just a bit under a twitched smirk. "Well, uhh, what did you have in mind?"

Duo gave a shrug. "Well, you don't wanna do anything too fun. I get that, and that's okay. But if all you have on your mind is sleep, that's a little anti-climactic."

Melody opened her mouth to respond, but shut it again. Her eyes averted away from his in thought. She, after what seemed like several minutes frozen in time, turned back to him, biting down on her tongue. "I really don't know what else you would want to do," she admitted in a shy whisper.

His serious façade cracked, a grin rising to the surface. He loved when her innocence reared its head, especially when she was trying to be so confident and fearless. It was cute. "Your mind always in the gutter, Mel?" he asked with a chuckle.

Melody's mouth snapped open in a breathless gasp. "No! I don't think about that all the time like some other people I know," she retorted in a huff.

"Well, you hafta be talking about Quatre," he said with an ever-widening smirk. "He and Lissy do it like rabbits. You'd think they have nothing else to do with their free time. They find lots of uses for _their_ bed. Hell, they might not even use the bed all the time. Quatre's kinkier than ya might think."

A tsunami of scarlet splashed over her cheeks. She pressed her palms against her face, groaning. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. I would like to look at them and not have those visuals going through my head," she grumbled against her hands.

Duo rested his cheek against his palm, smiling at her embarrassment. "They have a kid, babe. They have sex. A lot. They probably do it a couple times a day. It's okay," he replied, wagging his eyebrows.

Melody shoved him with a groan. "Stop that! No more talking about that!" She turned on her side, presenting her back to him. "I'm going to bed before you make my head explode."

Duo couldn't help the chuckle vibrating against his throat. He watched her settle in a comfortable position, her knees bent slightly and her back arched forward.

He pushed himself towards her, resting his chin on her shoulder while an arm slid protectively around her belly. When Melody turned her head at him in question, his smile only spread further over his jovial face.

"It will be great one day to be like Quatre and Lissy and do all that naughty stuff, but I was hinting at some cuddling before you decided to hit the hay. Hope that's okay," he said quietly.

Melody smiled at him, snuggling her back against his body while threading her fingers through his. "I think that's a pretty good start to sharing bed time with you. Cuddling I can do."

Sleep didn't come for hours.

* * *

**A/N: I'm glad I decided to go with Duo and Melody. I guess even after finishing _When the Stars Fall_, I'll still be able to get a little more satisfaction in writing about them. There will be more themes to come soon! Thanks for reading these little ficlets!**


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